


La Vie En Rose

by Notes_From_A_Human



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Fic, Divorce, Jazz Music, M/M, Slow Burn, daddy!jolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notes_From_A_Human/pseuds/Notes_From_A_Human
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Enjolras's husband of eight years abandons him and their baby Enjolras is pretty sure that he's not going to love again. And that's cool right? Stepparents aren't that great, he would know. But when he runs into Grantaire, who he hasn't seen since college, things start to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Give Your Heart and Soul to Me

Enjolras folded the letter, slotted it back in its envelope, and tried to breathe. It was official. He was divorced. Divorced. With a capital D. Everything he’d feared had happened. All hopes of reconciliation were dashed. It was the end. Edward had left him, divorced him, and he was never coming back. There was no denying it any longer. He was a single parent. 

He threw the envelope down on the counter, and sank into the worn armchair, head in his hands. He’d given Edward his heart, his soul, and eight years of his life. He’d loved Edward since college. The moment they met everything else ceased to matter. Enjolras had known with a certainty he’d never felt about anything else before, that he and Edward were meant to be together. And if you had asked him if they were soulmates up until six months ago he would have given the same answer: Enjolras and Edward were two parts of the same whole. They fit together. They complimented each other. They were one soul in two bodies. Together they would change the world. This was, of course, before he walked into find Edward fucking a college girl on their kitchen table. 

Enjolras glared at the offending table. It sat there, the breakfast dishes still littering the surface, looking innocent. He really ought to get rid of it. Donate it maybe. Or burn it. Either was good. He certainly couldn’t eat off it and feel good about himself now.

“Why are you staring at the table like it killed your grandmother?” Courfeyrac asked, crossing to the fridge, still wearing his pajamas. Bad luck must have been catching, because Courfeyrac had also just broken up with his significant other, and he’d moved in with Enjolras for the time being.

“No reason.” Enjolras said “Where’s ‘Ferre?”

“Running a little late.” Courfeyrac said “He texted me. There was a bit of an emergency at the hospital, he got off his shift later than normal. He should be here soon.”

“Okay.” Enjolras said, sinking backwards into the chair “I just don’t want to get started without him.” 

Courfeyrac smiled “He’ll be here as soon as he can. You know how he is.”

“Yeah.” Enjolras said. Combeferre really was the best friend anyone could have asked for, well, maybe except Courf’. They tied. They were the two best friends Enjolras could possibly have asked for. They’d been there for him through the disastrous ending to his marriage. He couldn’t possibly thank them enough. He knew he wasn’t always easy to get along with (or ever easy to get along with as Edward said a few weeks ago). He was loud, he could be demanding, he didn’t always think things through. But Courf’ and ‘Ferre had stuck with him through everything. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, he probably should have married one or both of them.

“You know you don’t have to do this today, right?” Courfeyrac asked, eyeing Enjolras from where he stood at the stove making tea “Everyone would understand if you ducked out and took some personal time.”

“No.” Enjolras said “Injustice doesn’t stop just because I’m hurting.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes “No of course not oh-noble-one, I’m just saying that if you need time to grieve you should take it.”

“I don’t need time to grieve. Edward divorced me, he’s not dead.”

“He may as well be dead as far as all your friends are concerned.” Courfeyrac said, brown eyes solemn. “And if you ever want him to disappear Bahorel and Jehan have remarked several times that they’d be more than happy to make that happen.”

“That’s more frightening than it is comforting.”

Courfeyrac shrugged “Just saying, the option’s there.”

“My friends being totally down to murder my ex husband and the father of my child is a little creepy Courf’.”

Almost as if summoned, Evard began to cry from the next room. Enjolras sighed, and went into the nursery to go pick up his distraught son. 

“Hey there baby, it’s okay.” he said quietly, picking up the sobbing infant “I’ll make everything okay.”

Evard began to calm down the minute his father picked him up. Enjolras grabbed the pacifier from off the bed and put it in his son’s mouth, and he calmed right down. He bounced him up and down a little, cooing to his child. Fine brown hair covered his head, and Evard stared at him with big brown eyes. He was the spitting image of Edward at that age, but Enjolras didn’t see that, he only saw his son; the one thing he had left of the family he’d built for himself. He debated putting Evard back down to see if he’d finish his nap. It’d been a long day, and Evard had been happily asleep, but he decided against it. Edvard had already shown that he could fall asleep in his father’s arms. And if Enjolras needed to hold Evard more than Evard actually needed to be held, well, that was his business.

“Hello small citizen!” Courfeyrac said enthusiastically as Enjolras crossed back into the kitchen.

“Shh,” Enjolras said reprovingly “I’m just getting him to settle down.”

“Sorry,” Courfeyrac said “Can I hold him?”

“No.” Enjolras said possessively, sitting back down in the chair “He’s my baby.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, then addressing Evard said “He is going to be the absolute worst honey. He’s going to wrap you up in bubble wrap, and not let you do anything fun at all. But don’t worry, Uncle Courf’s got your back.”

“Don’t incite rebellion in my son. He’s not even a year old yet!”

“Oh yes, sorry.” Courfeyrac said dryly “I’m sure he won’t want to start rabble rousing until he’s three at least.”

Enjolras kissed the top of his baby’s head “Or older.” he said “The point of me fighting is so that he doesn’t have to. As much fun as getting gassed by police and hanging out in holding cells is, I don’t want that for him.”

Courfeyrac smiled. “I take that back.” he said “You’ll be an excellent father. Just not a very fun one.”

“Courf’!”

Courfeyrac held his hands up in surrender “Just stating facts here.”

“I am plenty of fun.” Enjolras argued. He bounced Evard up and down gently “See? Bouncing. Fun. Babies like bouncing.”

As if to prove his point, Evard spit out his pacifier, and started crying again. Enjolras sighed, and retrieved the pacifier from his elbow, and gave it back to him.

“Way fun.” Courfeyrac said smiling. “You are way fun, I’m sure. And when small citizen grows up he’ll have some awesome uncles to show him what real fun actually is.”

“You are a terrible influence on my child.” Enjolras said.

Courfeyrac grinned “That’s just what uncles are for.”


	2. And Though I Close My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being late was stressful enough without running into old flames.

Enjolras shifted from foot to foot, trying his hardest not to consult his phone for for the thirteenth time. Punctuality was hard when you had a baby, his boss understood that, Valjean had said as much the day Enjolras finished his paternity leave. Didn’t mean being late sat well with him though. 

The major downside to being fifteen minutes late was that the line for coffee was about ten times longer than normal. Apparently, the difference between 6:45 and 7:00 was an important one. If Enjolras hadn’t gotten exactly zero hours of sleep the night before he’d just skip the coffee and go straight to work, but a thirty year old body did not respond to a sleepless night as well as a twenty year old body. It was different, he supposed, when you spend the night writing a paper or talking to your friends than when you spend the night waking up every forty minutes to take care of an infant.

“God, why is this line so slow?” he moaned. 

The woman in front of him turned around and glared at him. Refusing to be cowed, Enjolras glared right back. He did stop talking though. It was too early to be getting in a fight.

He settled for impatiently looking around the cafe. The walls were covered in artwork that changed almost weekly, if not daily. They were there on consignment from some artist, Enjolras didn’t know who, but whoever the artist was, they sure were talented. On one wall the city was lovingly rendered in soft pastels, on another a fey, willowy creature stared out with longing eyes. Enjolras wasn’t much of an art critic. Or an art connoisseur. Hell, he didn’t know the first thing about art, but he liked those paintings.

His phone buzzed. Anxiously, he pulled it out, breathing a sigh of relief when it wasn’t from the nanny, just from Courf’

C-Hey, are you doing anything tonight?

Enjolras considered before texting back  
E-I’d say sleeping, but that’s probably a bit quixotic.

A few minutes later his phone buzzed again.  
C-Will you make it to the meeting, or do you need a night off?

E-I’ll be there. I have some thoughts on how we can get volunteers for the food drive next week.

C-And is small citizen coming?

Enjolras sighed.  
E-Evard has a name, stop calling him ‘small citizen’. And yes, he is coming. But we are focusing on helping people, not my baby.

He pocketed the phone, and looked up. There were only three people in front of him now. He might not actually die in this coffee shop.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” a loud voice asked.

Enjolras, along with everyone else in the coffee shop, turned around.

The speaker was a tall man with wild dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a loose fitting green sweater, and paint stained jeans, a battered bag over one shoulder. And yes, Enjolras did know him.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, his heart speeding up. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting my nectar of consciousness” Grantaire shrugged “As per usual. Fancy running into you.”

“I come here every day.” Enjolras said

“Really? Because I come here every day.” Grantaire said “And I never see you.”

“I was running late this morning.” Enjolras said shortly

“Hey, are you going to order?” The barista, a tired and pimply college student asked

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” Enjolras said. “Nice seeing you.” he told Grantaire. He stepped up to the counter and ordered his usual, tall, double espresso, much more sugar and cream than was good for him. 

“See you again?” Grantaire asked as Enjolras walked out of the coffee shop

Enjolras shrugged, and walked out the door.

***

Considering that Evard hadn’t slept through the night, well, ever, and that by default Enjolras hadn’t slept through the night in longer than he could remember it should be surprising that he’d sleep through his alarm at least once. It had been almost blissful actually. He hadn’t woken up until the nanny, had knocked on his door. That cued about fifteen minutes of sheer panic as he tried to get dressed and make it out the door. 

After a panicked call to Valjean, who laughed all too knowingly, Enjolras determined that he had time to grab coffee, and that he should probably grab coffee for his boss as well if he was going to be a repeat tardiness offender. 

He slid into the coffee shop, and went to the end of the line. “You look stressed,” a loud voice called out.

Enjolras turned. Grantaire was sitting at a table, not two feet away from him, doodling something on an ipad. “I am stressed.” he replied.

“You should stop rushing about and try to relax.” Grantaire said

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Enjolras replied.

“And what does your husband think about that?” Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re divorced.” Enjolras said shortly

“I’m sorry.” 

“It happens.” 

“Is that why you’re so stressed?”

“Sure.”

“Come on, give me more than that.”

“I haven’t seen you in years, why do you even care?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shrugged “For old times sakes?”

Enjolras sighed. “Edward left me with sole custody of our infant son. Being a single parent isn’t exactly easy.”

“You’re a dad?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I just never pictured you as the fatherly type.”

Enjolras blushed, and pursed his lips angrily “I’ll have you know that I am a damn good father.” he said

Grantaire raised his hands in surrender “I don’t doubt it. I’m just surprised.”

“Hey, are you going to order?”

Enjolras shook his head, and turned to the counter.

***  
Enjolras was not running late that morning because it was, in fact, saturday, and he had absolutely nowhere to be. He’d stopped working weekends after Evard was born, and now weekends were special father-son time. It didn’t really matter all that much, considering Evard was an infant and therefore wouldn’t remember anything they did together for another few years, but Enjolras was determined to start good habits early. Part of being nothing like his own father included being there for his son as much as possible. 

So they were going to the park that morning, because fresh air and sunshine was good for babies, right? Or maybe that was plants. He couldn’t remember at this point. He was so tired. He’d always thought outside overrated, but for the sake of his son he’d give it a go. 

The city was in full summer festivity as he pushed the stroller through the park. Street clowns juggled, musicians busked, grandfathers played chess against their grandchildren. The farmer’s market would be open in a few hours, and he’d meet up with Courf’ and ‘Ferre, who insisted on ‘uncle time’ with Evard, which, to be quite honest, was probably more for Enjolras’s sake than Evard’s, but Enjolras wasn’t about to protest anything that gave him a minute to breathe. 

Enjolras stopped at a bench facing the duck pond, and sat down. He looked into the stroller to find Evard awake, looking around at everything with wide brown eyes. Enjolras smiled. He was stressed, tired, emotionally traumatized, and smelled slightly of vomit, but, overall, he was very happy.

“Well good morning.” he said, unbuckling the straps on the stroller “It’s a nice day isn’t it?”

He pulled Evard out of the stroller, and held him, babbling nonsensically. 

“There’s ducks over there.” he said “And in a couple years we’ll bring bread and feed them, but we’ll do it from a distance, because I don’t want you to get bitten by ducks, and duck bites are a very serious thing, despite what your Uncle Courfeyrac will tell you.”  
Evard was looking around, probably not even listening. (could babies even listen?), but, smiling, Enjolras continued on. 

“Also, when you’re old enough to sit up and walk we’ll go play on the playground, if you like that. I can push you on the swings, and catch you at the end of the slide. We’re not doing the monkey bars though. Monkey bars are terrifying.”

“What did monkey bars ever do to you?”

Enjolras whirled around. Grantaire sat in the grass about ten feet behind him, a sketchbook in his lap, presumably drawing the landscape. Enjolras colored.

“It’s rude to listen to people’s private conversations you know.” he said

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Grantaire said “But does it really count as a conversation when you’re talking to yourself?”

“I’ll have you know that I am not talking to myself.” Enjolras sniffed “I am talking to my son.”

“Yeah, about the terrors of ducks and monkey bars”

“Legitimate dangers.” Enjolras said “I can quote statistics if you like.”

“Please don’t.” Grantaire said “Saturday’s are supposed to be fun. Can I see your baby?”

He considered a minute. Grantaire had never bitten anyone, as far as he knew. He probably didn’t have any infectious diseases, and he most likely wouldn’t run off with his baby. But still...

“I guess.” Enjolras said grudgingly.

Grantaire stood up, and came over to the bench, sitting next to Enjolras and Evard.

“How old is he?” he asked

“Nearly six months.” Enjolras replied.

“He looks nothing like you.” Grantaire said.

“Thanks.” Enjolras replied dryly. “That’s what every father longs to hear.”

“I’m just saying.” Grantaire shrugged,

“That doesn’t make what you said any less rude.” he replied

“When did you become Mr. Manners?”

Enjolras glared. “When did you become so much of a prick?”

“Language.” Grantaire said scandalized “There are little ears around.”

“Evard is half asleep.” Enjolras said “And undoubtedly he’ll hear worse from Bahorel and Feuilly before he’s talking.”

“You still see them?” Grantaire asked

“Every tuesday night.” Enjolras replied

“Les Amis is still going strong then?”

“Stronger than ever.” Enjolras replied proudly. “We’ve widened our reach. It’s less violent protests and more food drives and adult education now.”

Grantaire whistled “And you do all this with a kid?”

“Yes.” Enjolras replied

“Damn. You really are superman, aren’t you?”

“I do my best.” Enjolras sniffed “It is possible to have a job, a family, and not be self centered you know.”

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Grantaire said, picking up his sketchbook, and standing up. “Nice seeing you, your kid is adorable.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, watching Grantaire’s rapidly retreating back. He held Evard closer. “I was dating him when I met your biological daddy.” he whispered “We didn’t get along then either, but, as Uncle Combeferre will tell you, opposites attract. Uncle Courfeyrac will undoubtedly follow that up with something profane and inappropriate for small ears. Don’t listen to them. I love them, but they’ve both lead a charmed life. Also, they’re nuts.”

***

“You’re here early.” Grantaire said, eyebrows raised.

“I’m here not late.” Enjolras replied, looking up from his phone “I usually get coffee at this time.”

“The mighty Enjolras, late?” Grantaire asked, “I’m shocked.”

“Things change when you have a little person to take care of.” Enjolras replied “Punctuality goes straight out the window.”

“Ah, speaking of little persons,” Grantaire said awkwardly “I’m sorry, for the things I said on Saturday, that was out of line.”

Enjolras stared. Grantaire had never apologized to anyone about anything, as far as Enjolras remembered. “It’s fine,” he said, shocked “I was rude too. Mutual bad behavior. Sorry.”

Grantaire grinned “The great Apollo apologizing? What has the world come to?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But it fits so well.”

***

“So I’m a prick, right?” 

Enjolras turned around “Are you stalking me?”

“Sharing a coffee shop is hardly stalking.” Grantaire replied “Answer the question.”

“Occasionally.” Enjolras said “But I haven’t really seen you in eight years, so I don’t know who you are now.”

“So go out with me.”

“What?” 

“Come on a date with me?” Grantaire stuttered, blushing “It’s been eight years, but maybe give it a second try?”

Enjolras bit his lip, considering. “We didn’t work the first time.”

“We didn’t actually fail either.” Grantaire said “We weren’t even exclusive. You found someone you wanted to marry, I respect that. But he’s gone now, give us a second go?”

“Wow, you really know how to romance a guy.” Enjolras said dryly. “Have you considered that I’m maybe not ready to date?”

Grantaire shrugged “Sorry,” he said “Just thought I’d give it a go.” he turned around, and started to walk away.

“I didn’t say no.” Enjolras called after him.

Grantaire turned around “It sounded like a rejection to me.”

“You were being a prick, again.”

Grantaire shrugged “One of my charms. Should I meet you here at seven?”

“I can’t tonight.” Enjolras said “But maybe friday?”

Grantaire smiled “You got it blondie.”

“God I hate you.”


	3. This Magic Spell You Cast

“Shh, shh, yes, I know Evard, I know.” Enjolras said, gently bouncing the wailing infant with one arm, holding a bottle under a stream of hot water with the other. “I’m working on it, I promise. Just let me get your bottle warm, then I’ll feed you, and all will be well with the world. Well, with the world as you know it. Well, the world as you can experience it as a six month baby. But I swear I’m working on the other stuff. I’m doing my best to demolish capitalism before you start school.”

Evard cried on, unable to understand concepts like ‘capitalism’ and ‘dad is trying’ and ‘warm food tastes better’. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Enjolras said. He pulled the bottle out of the water stream, and awkwardly tried to drop some of the formula on his wrist, the same wrist that was wrapped around Evard. He mostly succeeded in dumping half the bottle on himself and his baby, but it was slightly warmer than lukewarm, so no harm done, and it would do. He stuck the bottle in Evard’s mouth, and the little boy calmed down almost instantly. Enjolras smiled tiredly. Finally, quiet. 

Enjolras awkwardly maneuvered around his apartment. What was once pristine and spotless was now a total disaster. The nanny was terrible at cleaning up after themself, and, quite frankly, Enjolras wasn’t doing much better. Baby toys and a bouncer occupied the space immediately in front of the couch, and a laptop and a stack of legal briefs sat in front of the loveseat. A war zone of baby toys and political propaganda spread out from there. The whole place was a health hazard. He’d try to clean it up after Evard went to bed, but, quite frankly, the minute Evard went to bed Enjolras would probably be asleep as well. 

He sank into the loveseat, not caring that he was dripping formula on the furniture. He wiped the excess milk off Evard with the burp cloth, and settled back. He shut his eyes, and tried to breathe. Stressful didn’t even describe his day, didn’t even scratch the surface. The firm was working on a particularly intense case, prosecuting several police officers for brutalizing the people they were supposed to protect, and the police were not taking it well. After several hours on the phone with belligerent, irritated, and downright rude police officers Enjolras felt like he’d worked a month in a single day. It was Tuesday, and he was ready for the weekend. But even after all he’d done at work that day, he’d still had to bring work home with him. 

What he needed was a good, long nap. A nap that lasted like fifteen years. With a really nice blanket, and someone to snuggle with. Or maybe just a secondary nice blanket to snuggle with. Actually, the blanket might be better. If he was going to spend fifteen years sleeping he didn’t want anyone stealing his nice blankets. 

Evard finished up the bottle, and Enjolras removed it from him experimentally. He didn’t keep crying, and he had eaten a lot earlier, so he was going to work under the assumption that everything was fine? 

It was really stressful knowing that a tiny life literally rested in his hands.

Enjolras propped Evard up, and awkwardly tried to retrieve the burp cloth from where it had fallen between the couch and the wall. Red faced and gasping, he retrieved it, and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Alright,” Enjolras said “Nearly done.” 

Evard smiled at him. Enjolras smiled back. Smiling was apparently one of the milestones babies should hit at about six months. Evard had just started, and it was adorable, and his heart melted just a little bit every time he saw it.

Evard then opened his mouth, vomited all over his father, and started crying again. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.” Enjolras said. He wiped Evard’s chin off with the burp cloth, then stood up “We’re going to get cleaned up, and then we’ll take a nice nap, or do something. Something that will make you happy and stop crying. I don’t care what. You wanna listen to Mozart? We’ll listen to Mozart. You wanna play with rubber ducks? We will play with all the ducks. Anything you want, you got it.”

Evard started hiccuping, and that made him cry harder. Enjolras sighed “I know sweetheart, I don’t want to listen to Mozart or play with ducks either. And I know this sucks, ‘cause everything you do is a new experience, and hiccups are the worst, but can we try to be rational about this?”

Enjolras pushed the bedroom door open with his elbow, and edged inside his and Evard’s room. There was technically a room set aside for Evard. He and Edward had painted it a pale green. Combeferre had given them some dinosaur wall stickers, and Feuilly had hand made all the furniture. It was a nice room, with a rocking chair and a changing station, but three days into single parenthood Enjolras had moved the crib to his room, and most of Evard’s stuff had slowly migrated as well. If he was going to wake up 24 times in a single night, he’d like to be as close to his bed as he could be.

He gently laid Evard, who was starting to wind down a bit, on his bed, boxed him in with a couple of pillows (he wasn’t rolling yet, but Enjolras wasn’t taking any chances), and pulled off his vomit stained shirt, and threw it in the laundry basket. He grabbed a soft red sweater from the pile of unfolded laundry on the chair in the corner, as well as the green dinosaur footie pajamas. He pulled the sweater over his head, tossed the pajamas down, and crawled on the bed.

“Okay,” he said, pulling Evard onto his lap “Let’s put on pajamas, okay? See? They have dinosaurs on them. Uncle Combeferre gave them to you.” Evard sniffed, but had stopped crying. Enjolras smiled, and wiped away the leftover tears with his thumb. “It’s okay baby.” he said “Everything is alright.” Gently, he helped Evard out of the damp blue shirt, and tossed it in the laundry. Pants came off next, and a discreet sniff confirmed that Evard did not need changing. 

“Alright.” He said, Evard’s legs into the pajamas. “See? It’s all good.”

Evard blinked at him. He opened his mouth “Mama”

Enjolras stared, dumbfounded. “Holy socialism, did you just speak?”

Evard yawned.

“Right.” Enjolras said, zipping up the pajamas. “Bedtime.” He got up, and laid Evard in his bed. He tucked his little boy in, then turned off the lights. Still puzzled. 

***  
“And his first word was ‘mama’. Where did that even come from? His birth mother doesn’t even live in this part of the country. There are no feminine influences in his life. What on earth is happening?” Enjolras finished. He took a sip of his coffee and frowned. Grantaire probably hadn’t expected a thirty minute soliloquy on Edvard’s speech development in answer to the question ‘how are you?’, but it was weighing on Enjolras’s mind, and it just came out.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Grantaire said “Isn’t that everyone’s first words?”

“It wasn’t my first word.” Enjolras said.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “No I’m sure your first word was ‘I object your honor’ or ‘down with capitalism’” he said “I’m talking about mortals here Apollo.”

“I am mortal.” Enjolras said “I’m not perfect. Yesterday I asked a baby to be rational. That’s ridiculous. And don’t call me Apollo.”

“Sure thing Apollo.”

“Grantaire--”

“It could just maybe be a linguistic thing.” Grantaire cut in “Have you ever seen ‘The Unanswered Question’?”

“What?”

“It’s a bunch of lectures by Leonard Bernstein, you know, the West Side Story guy. He relates music to linguistics. I had to watch it back when we were in college. But, anyways, there was this one part where he like, figured out that man’s first words were ‘ma’, ‘cause of the way mouths work and shit. You should watch it, it’s super boring.”

“It’s boring, so I should watch it?” Enjolras asked “What are you trying to say?”

Grantaire shrugged “Just proposing an alternate theory here.” he said “Attempting to solve your problems Apollo.”

***

“Enjolras, what’s up?” Combeferre asked, giving the pot of spaghetti a stir.

“My baby is rolling EVERYWHERE and I cannot find him.” Enjolras practically shouted through the phone “Is that normal?”

“Well, rolling is fairly normal at six months.” Combeferre said “I’m not the pediatrician though, you should call Joly.”

“No, ‘Ferre, you don’t understand. I have literally lost my child. He was laying on a blanket playing with toys, and now he has rolled off to who knows where. HE IS GONE.”

“Okay, calm down E.” Combeferre said “He can’t have gone very far, your apartment isn’t very big. Sometimes babies will roll as a way to get around. Just look down low, and I’m sure that you’ll find him”

“Okay.” Enjolras said “Gotta go.”

“Good luck!” Combeferre said, but Enjolras had already hung up on him. He shook his head “No phone manners at all.”

Courfeyrac poked his head around the corner “I heard you say ‘no manners’, and assumed you were talking about me.” he said.

Combeferre laughed. “You dork.”

Courfeyrac grinned, and bowed “At your service.”

***

“There’s no way your baby rolled halfway across your apartment.” Grantaire said “You’re exaggerating.”

“No,” Enjolras said “I kid you not. He went from the living room all the way into his room, and fell asleep under the changing table. I was searching for hours.”

Grantaire laughed “He sounds like quite the kid.”

Enjolras smiled “Oh, he is, he’s terrific. It’s terrifying though. Now that he’s moving I have to childproof everything, more than just sticking plugs in the sockets. I have towels taped to my walls, and furniture pushed in front of the stairs to stop him from hurting himself.”

“You must have been a terrible baby for this sort of karmic payout.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh you know how it’s works.” Grantaire said, taking a sip of his coffee “Every parent, at one point, tells their child that they hope they have one just like them. Basically, everything you ever did to alarm, annoy, or worry your parents is coming back to bite you.”

Enjolras sniffed “I’ll have you know I was a lovely child.”

“Oh I’m sure.” Grantaire grinned “How’d the teenage rebellion phase go?”

“Phase?” Enjolras asked “Excuse you, it was not a phase.”

Grantaire laughed, and consulted his watch “I have to go, but, meet you here at eight?”

“You got it.” Enjolras said.

“Great,” Grantaire said, gathering his things, and leaving the table “I’ll see you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this. I was doing mental plot planning earlier, and I realized that we're probably about halfway through. Updates should continue to be published every Sunday.
> 
> Also, babies rolling to get around is totally a thing that happens. We lost my 9 mo brother under the Christmas tree one year, 'cause he'd roll under there when my mom wasn't looking.


	4. When You Kiss Me Heaven Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All at once, things come together.

“Okay, what about this?” Enjolras asked, holding up a grey suit

“Too formal.” Courfeyrac says, his mouth full of cheese He’s sitting on the bed, Evard in his lap. “It’s a date not a job interview.”

Enjolras sighed “Pretty sure I wore a suit on my first date with Edward.”

“Yeah, and Edward was a weirdly formal cheating prick.” Courfeyrac said “If I’m remembering Grantaire right, he’s not like that.”

Enjolras sighed again, dramatically “‘Ferre?” he asked, making big, puppy dog eyes at his oldest friend.

“Courfeyrac is right.” Combeferre said, not even looking up from his book “Save the suit for your second wedding.”

“Fine, what do you suggest then?” Enjolras asked

“A nice sweater”  
“A sexy pair of jeans” they said in unison. They looked at each other and laughed. 

“That’s it, a sexy sweater with a nice pair of jeans.” Courfeyrac said “We work so much better together than alone.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a sexy sweater.” Enjolras said, digging into his closet.

“I beg to differ.” Courfeyrac said “Combeferre is the master of the sexy sweater. His entire winter wardrobe is made up of sexy sweaters. If sexy sweater land was a monarchy instead of a democratic republic, he’d be the king.”

Combeferre burst into laughter, and Courfeyrac grinned. “You’re going to corrupt my child.” Enjolras said grumpily.

“Well someone’s going to have to.” Courfeyrac said lightly.

“What about this?” Enjolras asked, holding up a thick orange sweater.

“No!” Courfeyrac said “No orange.”

“That is a truly terrible sweater E.” Combeferre said.

Enjolras frowned “Fine, what about this one?” He asked, holding up a green and grey argyle favorite from his college days.

“Nothing that you could go golfing in.” Courfeyrac said

Enjolras threw his hands up in the air, frustrated “Well I don’t know then. Maybe I should just go naked. Obviously this isn’t going to work out, so why am I trying.” He flopped back on the bed. Evard squealed, and reached for his dad. Enjolras took him from Courfeyrac, and sat the infant on his chest.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre must have had one of their freaky-no-words-husband-mind-chats, because thirty seconds later Courfeyrac stood up saying he’d go look through Enjolras’s closet, and Combeferre scooted over to lay down next to him.

“While I’m sure that Grantaire would be absolutely thrilled to see you naked, I’m not sure that moving that fast would be advisable.” Combeferre said dryly. “Not to mention public nudity is a felony.”

“It’s a misdemeanor.” Enjolras said quietly.

“Fine. Misdemeanor.” Combeferre said “Either way, I think you’re overthinking this. I’m sure that it’s going to work out, and that you’re going to have a lovely time no matter what you’re wearing. Grantaire likes you, remember?”

“We don’t know that.” Enjolras said “He never said that. Maybe he just feels sorry for me. Maybe it’s a joke. Maybe it’s a tax write off. I don’t know. Either way, it probably won’t work out long term. Maybe I should just cancel.”

“Don’t you dare.” Combeferre said, grabbing his hand as he reached for his cellphone. “You deserve the chance to be happy, and I’m not going to let you chicken out. Edward was a bastard, no doubt about it, but Grantaire isn’t Edward, and there’s nothing saying that you and Grantaire won’t work out.”

“Besides.” Courfeyrac said, coming out of the closet “Even if you don’t end up getting married, having twelve more children, and moving to a puppy farm in Newfoundland doesn’t mean that it will be an unsuccessful relationship. Some relationships are meant to end, it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t the relationship you needed at the time, and it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t good.” he paused “Except for Edward, fuck that guy.”

Enjolras hissed, putting his hands over his baby’s ears “Language.” he said “And I appreciate it, but you don’t need to keep bashing on my ex husband. I know you hate him.”

“Hate isn’t strong enough.” Courfeyrac muttered murderously. “Anyways, here.” he threw a soft red sweater literally onto Enjolras’ face “I think that’ll go nicely with this pair of jeans that I’m not going to throw at you, because that seems like a bad idea, and I am working on impulse control. Hand me the baby, and you go try them on.”

Enjolras handed Evard over to Courfeyrac, and went to the attached bathroom to change. He put on the clothes, then looked in the mirror. He didn’t look terrible, he supposed. The bags under his eyes were significantly smaller than normal, and you could actually see his cheekbones after he tamed his curls into a ponytail. Red was his favorite color, and it brought out his skin tone well.

If anything went wrong he could always leave. There was nothing stopping him from leaving halfway through, collecting his child from Courf’ and ‘Ferre, and going home and eating an entire tub of ice cream while watching Bob the Builder with Evard. Everything would be alright. He squared his shoulders, and went out to see what his best friends thought.

Courfeyrac burst into applause the moment he stepped out the door “Beautiful.” he said “Truly beautiful, you’ll blow him away.”

Enjolras glared at him “Stop that.” he said “I’m not that impressive.”

Combeferre smiled “You do look nice.” he said 

Enjolras shifted uncomfortably “I’ll come get Evard by ten, eleven at the latest.”

“Nonsense.” Courfeyrac said, tickling Evard, who giggled “We are having a sleepover, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, just make sure to have him in bed by--”

“Nine. Yes, we know.” Combeferre said “Put on your shoes and go Enj, stop stalling.”

Enjolras smiled “Thanks guys.” he said.

“No worries.” Combeferre said

“Knock him dead.” Courfeyrac said “Literally if necessary.”

***

Enjolras had expected to be the first one to arrive, but he was wrong. Grantaire was waiting for him at the coffee shop.

Grantaire smiled at him, and like some teenager in a bad high school movie, Enjolras’ heart skipped a beat. Grantaire looked good normally, but with his hair pulled back and wearing jeans that didn’t have paint on them, he looked like some sort of European prince on vacation. And that just wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” Grantaire said “You ready to go?”

“Ready when you are.” Enjolras said “That being said, where are we going exactly?”

“Well, it’s a friday night-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And summer is finally here...”

“Is that why it’s so hot?”

“It’s that time of year again!”

“The time of year when my air conditioning bills skyrocket?”

“No, they’re setting the river on fire!” Grantaire said excitedly.

“Oh.” Enjolras said “I forgot about that.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “You’ve never been, have you?”

“No.” Enjolras said “Not really.”

“You’ve lived here how long?”

“All my life.”

“All your life” he finished “And you’ve never seen the burning of the river?”

“I was busy.” Enjolras said “I am busy. Don’t judge me.”

Grantaire smiled “Well tonight’s your lucky night Apollo, we’re going to the burning of the river, and all the revels surrounding that.”

“It can’t be that lucky if a body of water is literally catching fire.” Enjolras muttered rebelliously.

Grantaire laughed, and slung his arm over Enjolras’ shoulder. Enjolras’s heart fluttered a bit before he firmly quashed the feeling down. “It’s not catching fire.” Grantaire said “It’s set on fire. It’s art.”

“It’s a health hazard.” Enjolras argued “What if someone fell in?”

“Well, if someone is dumb enough to jump the fence, fall in the river, and get burned by a river that’s only a little on fire then maybe it’s just chlorine for the gene pool.”

“That’s terrible.” Enjolras said dryly. “What if it was a child.”

“That’s different.” Grantaire said “But I feel like a child would drown before getting to the flames.”

“That’s horrendously morbid.”

“Morbid Monday is my favorite day of the week.”

“Do I even know you?”

***  
“Okay, but you have to admit that Beyonce is good.” Grantaire said “It’s like a law.”

Enjolras made a face “Not my cup of tea.” he said “I know that everyone loves Beyonce, but I just don’t get it.”

Grantaire shook his head “Okay Mr. Not-A-Fan-Of-Beyonce, what music do you like then?”

“Classical music.”

“Of course.”

“But literally only music from the Classical period.” Enjolras said “Keep Romanticism away from me.”

Grantaire laughed

“Celtic music.”

“That’s a surprise.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re so ooolllllllllldddd”

“Am not.” Enjolras said “I’m younger than you.”

“Is there anything else you like? Besides yelling at kids to get off your lawn.”

“Lawns are a waste of time and space that could be devoted to actual agriculture.” Enjolras said “And while I theoretically might enjoy yelling at kids to get out of my front yard garden if I had one, that does not make me old.”

“So Celtic and Classical then?” Grantaire said “You’re going to be hard to take to concerts.”

Enjolras blushed “I like jazz too.”

Grantaire smiled “Well you’re in luck then.” he said “Guess who’s the main vocalist for one of the city’s least known jazz combo?”

“Beyonce?”

“I wish.” Grantaire said “No, it is but I, the humble mortal you see before you.”

“Really? That’s so cool!” Enjolras said 

“Gotta put that music minor to use somehow.” Grantaire said “We don’t get a lot of gigs, we mostly mess around, but it’s a blast.”

“Where do you usually play? I’d love to come see you sometime.” Enjolras said  
Grantaire smiled “I’ll let you know when I know.” he said “It’s not very steady work, there’s a reason I sell paintings in the coffee shop.”

Enjolras whistled “Damn you’re talented. Anything else you do? Write musicals on the side? Run a Chinese Acrobat troupe?”

Grantaire laughed “No acrobatics,” he said “I was a part of a modern dance company for a while, but I’m getting too old for that now.”

“So I’m not the only old one.” Enjolras teased.

“No, you’re still old.” Grantaire said “You were born old. There’s a difference between being too old to put your body through physical torture in the name of art and watching masterpiece theater with a cup of tea each night before bed.”

“Do not besmirch the name of masterpiece theater.” Enjolras said “PBS is one of the television channels I actually enjoy.”

“You would get along splendidly with my grandparents.” Grantaire said “I can just see you and my grandmother complaining about how the latest Jane Eyre movie is unfaithful to the book over a cup of earl grey.”

“I’ve never even read Jane Eyre.” Enjolras protested 

“Let’s go over here,” Grantaire said, pointing at the bridge “My point still stands though.” he said “You’re old.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being old!” 

“Look at that.” Grantaire said, stopping in the middle of the bridge. 

Enjolras looked out. Groups of people were rowing down the river in boats, weaving in and out of the torches staked in the middle of the river. In perfect synchronization, a person from each boat stood up, and lit two torches. 

It was amazing, what they did. Tossing torches from boat to boat, juggling, twirling. Quite frankly, it was amazing that the other people in the boat didn’t catch fire. The further away the boats floated the more it looked like graceful ribbons twisting through the air.

“Wow.” Enjolras breathed.

“No kidding.” Grantaire said. He slipped his arms around Enjolras “Pretty amazing, huh?”

“What a beautiful fire hazard.”

Grantaire laughed “Only you would look at that and think of fire safety Apollo.”

“Well you can’t deny-”

Grantaire leaned in, and kissed him. 

Enjolras relaxed into the kiss. Grantaire’s hands cupped his face, and Enjolras moved his own up to cover them. It was amazing. He hadn’t been kissed like that -- like he meant something-- in so long. 

Eventually Grantaire pulled away “I hope that was alright.” he whispered.

Enjolras grinned “That was perfect.” he said. He took Grantaire’s hand “Show me again?”

Grantaire grinned “I never had you pegged for one who liked PDA.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”  
***  
Laughing, they tumbled into Enjolras’s apartment.

“You weren’t joking when you said you’d taped towels to the walls.” Grantaire observed “And is that a child gate across the doorway? Bless you.”

“This is what happens when you have a baby.” Enjolras said, waving at the apartment “Home decor becomes way less important. Do you want a drink?”

“Love one.” Grantaire said 

“Okay, hang on.” Enjolras said, shucking of his jacket “Just wait here.” he crossed the room, stepped over the childgate, and disappeared into the kitchen. He rummaged through his cupboards looking for wine glasses, praying that he had something decent to drink the cupboards. God, it’d been so long since he’d needed to impress somebody.

Grantaire laughed from the living room. “What?” Enjolras asked

“I can’t believe you own a record player.” Grantaire said, poking his head in through the door. “That’s very hipster of you.”

“It was my uncle’s.” Enjolras said “And there’s nothing hipster about appreciating good sound quality. Plus, it was my uncle’s.”  
“Whatever.” Grantaire said “Mind if I put on some music?” 

“Go ahead.” Enjolras said “I’ll be right out.”

Enjolras pulled a bottle of red wine out of the very back of the cabinet, and started pouring it into glasses. He vaguely recalled buying it to surprise Edward with one night, but obviously that hadn’t happened. Grantaire would probably appreciate it more anyways.

“Alright,” Enjolras said, stepping out into the living room “What are we listening to?”

“Louis Armstrong” Grantaire said, showing him the record sleeve “It’s like a greatest hits compilations from the seventies.”

“On of my aunt’s favorites.” Enjolras said. “Trade you.” he handed Grantaire one of the glasses of wine, and inserted the record into the record player. The strains of C’est Si Bon slowly filled the room. Enjolras sank onto the couch next to Grantaire. Grantaire put his arm around him, and Enjolras leaned into him. Grantaire smelled good. Like mango and patchouli. They sat there in silence for a moment. Enjolras’ mind briefly wandered to Evard, wondering how he was doing. He considered texting Courfeyrac, just to check in, but decided against it. He had to loosen up on the overprotective father gig sometime, and now was a good time to start. Just to resist temptation, he put his hand in his pocket and turned off his phone.

“Come on, dance with me.” Grantaire said. He stood up, and pulled Enjolras to his feet.

“I’m a terrible dancer.” Enjolras warned

“We won’t do anything fancy.” Grantaire said. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead.” He took Enjolras’ hand, and placed his hand in the small of the blond’s back. Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, and they started to sway back and forth.

“Oh leave me one thing before we part, a kiss to build a dream on.” Grantaire sang. He lifted his arm, and spun Enjolras. Enjolras laughed as Grantaire dropped his hand, and started to freestyle, dancing around Enjolras instead of with him. It shouldn’t have been seductive, there was nothing overtly sexual about the moment. But a touch here, a brush there, if Grantaire was trying to seduce him he already had.

Grantaire drew Enjolras back in, and dramatically dipped him as the song ended.

“I thought you said nothing fancy.” Enjolras joked

Grantaire shrugged “Couldn’t help myself.” he said. He pulled Enjolras upright, and drew him closer, putting both his hands on his hips, swaying side to side.

Hold me close and hold me fast/this magic spell you cast/this is la vie en rose

“I love this song.” Grantaire whispered

“Never figured you’d be one advocating for seeing the world through rose colored glasses.” Enjolras said.

“I’ve changed.” Grantaire said “I’m not the cynical twenty-something I once was. You’ve changed too I wager.”

Enjolras smiled sadly, and nuzzled into Grantaire’s chest. “Only more than you can imagine.” he said. 

“Hey,” Grantaire said, pulling apart so he could look Enjolras in the eye “That’s not a bad thing. You’re still more dazzling than the sun, you’re still Apollo.”

“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?” Enjolras asked, smiling. 

“More than I can remember.” Grantaire said. “Sorry, the nickname stuck.”

Enjolras sighed, and Grantaire pulled him in for a kiss. The track changed, and Louis Armstrong started to sing about making whoopee.

Giggling like teenagers, they broke apart. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Grantaire asked

“You picked the record.”

“You own the record.”

“Are you even listening? This song is literally about why making whoopee is a bad idea.”

“Well let’s prove the king of swing wrong then.”

“That’s Benny Goodman.”

“You know what I mean.”

Enjolras laughed, and took Grantaire by the hand. “Well come on then,” he said, pulling him to the bedroom. He yanked him inside, and kicked the door closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this was the chapter that inspired this fic, and I'm not sure I did it justice. Also, there's a lot of Louis Armstrong references, and I'm not even sorry. Comments are always welcome. :)


	5. I'm In a World Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the shit hits the fan.

Enjolras sighed, and burrowed into Grantaire’s chest, nuzzling his nose in the soft dark hair on his chest. The early morning sunlight filtered through the blinds and lay across them. Everything was warm. In the early calm before the world was fully awake time seemed to stand still, and if Enjolras had ever wanted to live in one moment, this was a pretty good one.

Grantaire was still asleep. He looked ten years younger asleep, almost the same as he looked the first time they’d slept together all those years ago. There were lines around the eyes and mouth, a grey hair or two, but if he stood three feet away and squinted, Grantaire looked like he was twenty six, and they had celebrated the end of school with some truly mind blowing sex.

“Get back here and snuggle with me, damnit.” Grantaire said “Unless you have somewhere to be.”

Enjolras paused, and lay back down, glaring defiantly. “No,” he said “I just wasn’t aware you liked your booty calls to stay the night.”

“I don’t normally, but for a booty as fine as yours I’ll make an exception.” Grantaire said “Now roll over so I can spoon you.”

“So domineering.”

“You know you like it.”

Enjolras glared fiercely at the wall “That’s a pretty big assumption to make.”

“Not really when you were begging me to dominate the fuck out of you about half an hour ago.” Grantaire said “Now shut up, I’m trying to sleep here.” His arm snaked around Enjolras’ waist, and he scooted closer, nuzzling into the smaller man.

Enjolras closed his eyes. He could feel Grantaire’s heartbeat against his back, could feel his breath on the back of his neck. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He and Grantaire weren’t together. Hell, they didn’t even like each other half the time. And yet, more often than not, they ended up in bed together. 

Enjolras’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, and unlocked it, reading the text message with a smile.

“Who is it?” Grantaire mumbled

“Edward”

“The hot dude from the food bank.”

“Way to reduce him to his looks Grantaire.” Enjolras said drily. 

“I only met him once.” Grantaire said “Obviously you know him better, since you’re texting him heart emojis.”

“Don’t read over my shoulder.” Enjolras said, covering his phone with his hand.

“You like him.” Grantaire teased.

“So maybe I do.” Enjolras said “I don’t know. Are you going to make a big deal out of it?”

Grantaire shrugged “Heaven knows I wouldn’t dare stand in your way Apollo.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Are you asking for my blessing?”

Enjolras rolled over to glare at Grantaire in the face. “You’re impossible.”

“I try.” Grantaire said, running his fingers down Enjolras’s side “Now put away your phone before I have to ravish you again.”

“Make me.” Enjolras said defiantly.

“Maybe I will.” Grantaire said. He surged forward and kissed Enjolras, tangling his hands in the blond’s wild curls. He pushed Enjolras over so he was lying on his back, and climbed on top of him. He broke off the kiss, and began to run his fingers over Enjolras’ nipples, teasing.

“Put the phone away.” Grantaire said, blue eyes dark with lust.

Enjolras bit back a groan “Make me.”

“You really want to go there?”

“You bet your ass I do.”

“Well then, wouldn’t want to lose my ass, I hear that’s important.”

“You are an ass.”

“Well that’s just hurtful.” Grantaire said, nipping lightly at his nipples. “You might break my feelings.”

Enjolras moaned as Grantaire’s hand traveled further south. “Well, if this is where it gets me.” he panted.

Grantaire laughed, “God. Can you shut up for like ten minutes?”

“No.” Enjolras squeaked, arching his back 

“Fine then,” Grantaire said “I’ll just have to make you do that too. Why am I doing all the heavy lifting in this purely physical relationship.”

“Because you like to.” Enjolras said “And-”

Grantaire didn’t let him finish. He inserted his tongue into Enjolras’ mouth, and kissed him hard and long.

“God, do you not need to breathe?” Enjolras gasped when Grantaire finally went up for air.

“Shhh...” Grantaire said, running his palms down Enjolras’ face, resting a finger on his lips. “A moment of silence.”

“What for?” 

“In memory of your mind, which is about to be blown.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shh...”

Later, all fucked out, with Grantaire asleep beside him, Enjolras picked up his phone again.

Edwrd: So ur cute. Wanna get coffee tomorrow? My treat.   
Edwrd: like a date.  
Edwrd: I’m asking you on a date.   
Edwrd: U probs figured that out, but I thought I’d make it clear.  
Edwrd: ?????????

Enjolras smiled. He glanced back at Grantaire, who was still sleeping. They weren’t exclusive. Grantaire probably wouldn’t even care. Outside of the bedroom they weren’t even close friends. And as amazing as the sex was, Enjolras wanted to get married. He wanted to have a family. He wanted to build a life with someone. Grantaire just wasn’t the sort of guy you could build a life with. Why shouldn’t he try for something real?

E- Sorry for the delay. I’d love to go on a date with you.

He turned off the phone, and put it back on the nightstand. It probably wouldn’t come to much. Edward was much older than him after all. But stranger things had happened.

Grantaire showed no signs of waking up any time soon, so Enjolras rolled over, and grabbed his phone off the night stand. He smiled while he waited for it to turn on. He had to tell Courf’, he’d explode.

His smile faded as all the text messages he’d missed began to pop up

‘Ferre-Hey, does Evard have any allergies? Nothing to worry about, just wondering.  
‘Ferre-How long has little e had this cold?  
‘Ferre-Look, I know you’re probably busy, but I need you to call me.

C-Smol citizen won’t stop coughing or crying. Joly’s going to look over him.

J-I think your kid has croup.  
J-No, I know your kid has croup.

‘Ferre-Evard’s having trouble breathing, we’re taking him to the hospital. CALL ME.

C-We’re in the emergency room. I know I keep telling you to loosen up, BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

J-E, we really need you to call us or come down here, we need a medical history on Evard, and your insurance, and consent to treat.

‘Ferre-Look, I did my best with the medical history, but you REALLY need to come down here.

C- DUDE. PICK. UP. YOUR. EFFING. PHONE. 

Enjolras’ heart dropped. Naked, he slid out of bed and padded into the hallway. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then dialed Combeferre.

“What’s going on? What happened? Is he okay?” Enjolras practically shouted the minute Combeferre answered the phone.

“He’s sleeping. He had some nasty croup. And yes.” Combeferre said tiredly “Where have you been?”

“I’m so, so, sorry.” Enjolras said “Grantaire was here and I turned my phone off, and--”

“Don’t worry about it.” Combeferre said “Just get down here.”

“I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.” Enjolras said. 

“Good.” Combeferre said.

Enjolras hung up the phone, and slipped back into his room, taking care not to wake Grantaire. Uncaring of color, pattern, or cleanliness, he threw on the closest clothing to hand, grabbed his phone, wallet, keys, and slipped out of the apartment.

Practically jumping, he hailed a cab, and slid in the back “I’ll give you $100 to get me to the hospital as soon as you can.” 

The cab driver stared at him “You realize that this doesn’t really work this way, right?” she said “I have to obey traffic laws and the speed limit, you understand?”

“Please?” Enjolras begged.

“I’ll do my best.” She sighed 

“Thank you.” Enjolras said. 

He sank back into the seat, and tried to hold back tears. He really was a terrible father. His child spent the night in the hospital, probably scared out of his mind, definitely sick, and he didn’t even know until the morning after, because he was distracted. He’d placed Grantaire above Evard in terms of priority, and that was simply unacceptable. Evard was his child. Evard was the best thing in his life. Evard was the only thing left of the family he’d made for himself, and he could have lost that, because he was too busy being infatuated and behaving like a lovestruck teenager. Evard deserved better than that. He deserved a father that was there for him 100% of the time, and if Enjolras wasn’t that man yet, he had to become that man. 

***  
“Thank God!” Combeferre said as Enjolras ran through the door.

“How is he?” Enjolras asked as he rushed to the plastic crib. Evard was lying in the middle, hooked up to a monitor that measured his heartbeat, and oxygen tube in his nose. Despite that, he was sleeping peacefully.

“He’s doing much better.” Combeferre said tiredly. “He’s stopped coughing, and he’s breathing a lot better.”

“How did this happen?” Enjolras asked “He wasn’t even sick when you guys took him.”

Combeferre shrugged “Croup can come on really fast sometimes.” He said “This was just one of those times.”

“Thank you so much.” Enjolras said “I don’t know what I’d, what Evard would do without you. I-”

“Shhh,” Combeferre said, waving his hand at Enjolras “Sick happens.”

“E!” Courfeyrac said, bouncing through the door “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been out of my mind with worry all night. Your baby is in the hospital. Did you and Grantaire have sex last night? Why didn’t you answer your phone the first twelve times I called you? I have so many questions.”

“I’m so sorry.” Enjolras said “I was with Grantaire, and I turned off my phone, and I just-”

“So you did have sex last night.” Courfeyrac said, smiling wickedly.

Enjolras flushed “That’s not the point. I just-”

He was cut off by his phone going off, filling the ward with the sounds of tinny ukuleles and steel drums.

“Take that.” Combeferre said “We’ll be right here.”

Enjolras sighed “Be right back.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked into the hallway. It was Grantaire. Shit.

“Hey,” he said nervously as he answered the phone.

“Where did you go beautiful” Grantaire asked seductively “I was hoping we could go another round before breakfast.”  
“Look, Grantaire, I’m sorry, I--”

“You left me all alone in your bed, naked, yearning...”

“There was an emergency.” Enjolras said quickly, before his resolve wavered “My baby is in the hospital.”

“Oh God, what happened?” Grantaire asked, the honeyed notes of seduction gone from his voice “Is it serious?”

“I get the impression that it’s not, though no one has actually explained to me what happened yet.” Enjolras said “But he was admitted last night, and Courf’ and ‘Ferre were texting me all night, but I missed them because my phone was off because I was with you, and, look, I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault, but I really can’t afford any distractions right now.”

There was a definite pause.

“So are you like, breaking up with me then?” Grantaire asked

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras said “But as great as you are, as great as last night was, I can’t afford anything that will take me away from my son. He needs me, and he has to be my number one priority right now.”

Grantaire sighed “This is one hell of a way to treat a guy Enjolras.”

“I know, I’m-”

“I don’t want to hear your sorry’s.” Grantaire snapped “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“No, Grantaire, I just-”

The phone line went dead. Miserably, he turned around and walked back into the ward.

“What was that?” Courfeyrac asked

“Nothing.” Enjolras said, holding back tears “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still Sunday somewhere, right?


	6. Everyday Words Seem To Turn Into Love Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the fact that this took so long.

He was beginning to think of his life in terms of pre-hospital and post-hospital. He was one week post-hospital, and he wasn’t even going to think about how he was doing.

His phone beeped, and he picked it up with a great deal more calmness than he felt. 

Jean Prouvaire- 3:00 pm, and all is well!

It was followed by a picture of a smiling Evard playing with blocks. Enjolras sighed, and tried to refocus on the legal briefs he was supposed to be writing. His nanny had looked at him like he’d grown a third head when he’d insisted on receiving hourly updates on Evard’s activities, health, and happiness, but Enjolras had ignored it. He knew he was overprotective, and that he was acting more than a little bit crazy, but he’d learned his lesson. No distractions. He was a dad now, and that came before everything else. If he looked insane, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

His phone buzzed again. It was Joly. He ignored it, and went back to work. All the amis had been texting him almost non-stop since he resigned his position as official leader a few days ago. Heart heavy, he’d ignored them all. He didn’t think he could speak with them and remain strong. It’d only been a few days, but he already felt desperately lonely. He avoided the coffee shop in the mornings, he didn’t drop by Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s apartment after work, he no longer went to the gym. He went to work, the grocery store, and home. That was it. He spent his evenings catching up on work and playing with his son. Desperate for any sort of adult interaction, he’d started reading Common Sense to Evard as a bedtime story. He realized that it was utterly ludicrous and just a little pathetic to try and explain enlightenment philosophy to someone who couldn’t even walk, but he did it anyways. 

He had signed Evard up for a playgroup. It was in the evening, and there were four other children. While Evard seemed to enjoy it, Enjolras was ready to strangle every mother there half an hour in. They were so catty and petty, and downright confusing. Helen was fighting with Elaine because she didn’t take her turn at the carpool, but they were also best friends? Barbara didn’t like Helen because of something that had gone down at a PTA bake sale, but Helen didn’t know why Barbara didn’t like her. Brenda was also a single parent, and she kept making passes at him. He told her, firmly, that he was gay, but all four of them just tittered behind their hands, and exchanged knowing looks. Quite frankly, he was planning on draping himself in a rainbow flag and taking a book to the next playgroup meeting.

He missed everyone, but it was Grantaire’s face that kept floating through his imagination when he wasn’t paying attention to anything else. How his green eyes sparkled when he laughed, the feel of his hands over his, the way he smelled of coffee, paint, and an almost sinful cologne. It was a bittersweet distraction. A distraction that brought tears to his eyes if he wasn’t in complete control of himself. He pushed the thoughts away, he couldn’t afford a distraction.

“Have you finished with those briefs?” Valjean asked, poking his head into Enjolras’s office.

“Nearly done.” he said, “Half an hour at most.”

“No rush,” Valjean said mildly “The trial isn’t for another fortnight. Why don’t you finish them and then go home? I’m heading out of here early, and everyone else is already gone.”

“Okay.” Enjolras said, “I can do that.”

“Good.” Valjean said “And don’t come in tomorrow. You look half dead. Get some sleep.”

“But-”

Valjean held up a hand “Don’t think that I don’t know that you’re taking work home at night and working on it there. You’re more than just a lawyer, take some time for yourself.”

“Alright.” Enjolras said “I’ll try.”

Valjean raised an eyebrow “There is no try-”

“Thanks Yoda.” Enjolras mumbled under his breath.

Valjean smiled “If you’re still here when I walk out the door you’re in trouble.”

“Duly noted.” Enjolras said.

***  
Enjolras walked in to find the nanny gone, and Courfeyrac and Combeferre sitting on his sofa, playing with Evard.

“Hi...” Enjolras said “What are you guys-”

Combeferre scooped up Evard, who giggled happily, and gave Courfeyrac a significant look.

“THIS IS AN INTERVENTION!!” Courfeyrac screamed, and he practically tackled Enjolras

“Get off me! We are too old for this!” Enjolras shouted, as Courfeyrac manhandled him down the hallway towards his bedroom “I am a grown man, you can’t do this anymore.”

“I’M ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!!” Courfeyrac screamed as he tried to loosen Enjolras’ grip on the doorframe. “IF YOU WEREN’T SUCH AN IDIOT WE WOULDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS!”

“Combeferrreeeee--” Enjolras wailed

“Your daddy is so silly.” Combeferre said bouncing Evard on his hip. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll friends will do this for you someday, because, sorry kid, but you’re probably going to be really silly too.”

“Traitor.” Enjolras grumbled “Let go!” he shouted as Courfeyrac grabbed him around the waist, and picked him up.

“No!” Courfeyrac said “We know you too well E, this is the only way you’ll see sense.” With a great heave, he dumped Enjolras on his bed, and flopped on top of him.

“I hate you both.” Enjolras muttered, squashed under Courfeyrac’s weight “If I were bigger you wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Well you should have eaten your vegetables like your mother told you.” Combeferre said curtly. “Make sure he feeds you vegetables.” he instructed Evard, who merely giggled. 

Enjolras sighed “Aren’t we a little too old for this?” He practically pleaded “I’m a grown man. I am capable of making good decisions.”

“Oh E,” Courfeyrac said, patting Enjolras’s face “We’re going to keep staging interventions as needed until the day you die. Because while you might have grown up, you still get these ridiculous notions.”

“Oh really?” Enjolras said icily “And will you ease up a little? You’re a lot heavier now than you were at fifteen.”

“Rude.” Courfeyrac said, but he shifted a little to rest more of his weight on the bed less of it on Enjolras.

“Enjolras, do you know why you’re here?” Combeferre asked

“Because Courfeyrac bushwhacked me?” Enjolras muttered rebelliously

“Well, yes,” Combeferre said “But I was thinking less literally.”

“Does this have something to do with my resignation from the ABC?” Enjolras sighed. 

“Yes.” Combeferre said “And how you haven’t left the apartment except for work, and how you’re not returning anyone’s calls, and about what happened with Grantaire.”

“Nothing happened with Grantaire.” Enjolras insisted “Everything’s fine. I just need to spend more time focusing on being a father, that’s all.”

“Pardon my French,” Courfeyrac said “But that’s bullshit.”

Combeferre, looking scandalized, put his hands over Evard’s ears “Next time warn me.” he said “And he’s completely right.” he added.

“I’m being perfectly reasonable.” Enjolras said “There is a tiny person who depends on me, I have to put him first.”

“While we respect that,” Combeferre said “We think you’re going too far.”

“Look, you don’t have a kid-” Enjolras started

“Enjolras.” Combeferre said “You never do things by halves, and I respect that, I really do, but this is unhealthy, and that’s why we’re stepping in.

“Besides, we’ve got a small citizen of our own joining us soon, and we took a vote and decided what you’re doing is dumb.” Courfeyrac said “So no pulling the parent card.”

“You’re--?”

“Yup.”

“That’s fantastic! Please get off of me.”

“Not a chance.” Courfeyrac said, shifting in a way that put a little more pressure on Enjolras’ sternum than he was comfortable with “Not until you promise that you’re going to make this right.”

“He probably hates me.” Enjolras wailed “He probably never wants to talk to me again. Why won’t you just let me die?”

Courfeyrac sighed, and looked up at Combeferre “Was he always this dramatic?”

“Yes.” Combeferre said “Remember when he locked himself in his room for two days when he and Edward had their first fight?”

Courfeyrac grimaced “I had forgotten.”

“It was probably a defense mechanism.” Combeferre said “The brain tends to suppress memories of trauma.”

Enjolras huffed “If you two are quite done making fun of me-”

“Sorry.” Courfeyrac said “Look, I’ll let you up if you’ll hear me out.”

“Alright.”

Courfeyrac jumped up, and Enjolras pushed himself up, rubbing his chest “God Courf’ you’re heavy.” he said “Give me my baby,” he said, taking Evard from Combeferre.

“I’m pregnant.” Courfeyrac said, sounding mildly offended 

Combeferre rolled his eyes “He’s been saying that since our first meeting with the surrogate.” he said.

Enjolras cupped his son’s head, and Evard giggled, and started pulling on his father’s hair. Enjolras grimaced, but let it go. He’d lost all feeling in his head long ago.

“You wanted me to hear you out.” he said 

“Right.” Courfeyrac said, sitting back down on the bed. “So you know that Grantaire is a singer right?”

“Yes”

“But did you know that his band is playing at La Noix Faim this evening?”

“I can’t leave Evard.” Enjolras said flatly. “Sorry, I know you mean well, but no.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes, “That wasn’t a request E.”

“But my baby--”

“Will be taken care of.” Combeferre said firmly, “We’re even having Joly, Boss, and Musichetta over for dinner, so not only will there be a GP on hand, there will also be a pediatrician.”

“We’ve completely babyproofed our house.” Courfeyrac said, “Babygates, babybumpers, socket plugs--”

“Courf’ got a little overeager with the shopping.” Combeferre cut in, “Point is Enj, short of fire raining from the sky, Evard will be just fine.”

Enjolras bounced Evard up and down on his hip, and bit his lip anxiously, “He probably hates me.”

“He probably doesn’t.” Combeferre said, “You need to apologize, don’t doubt it, but I don’t think he hates you.”

“You don’t know that.” Enjolras muttered. Evard yawned, “I think Evard’s tired, I should--”

“Little e’s always tired.” Courfeyrac said, “Grantaire turned up at the Musain looking for you the other day, if he’s willing to climb four flights of stairs to the top floor of a cafe that should probably be condemned, I don’t think he hates you.”

Enjolras stared in confusion, “But he hasn’t called, hasn’t texted--”

“He said he didn’t think you’d take his calls.” Combeferre said, sitting down on the bed, “He says you’ve been avoiding him.”

“I told him you’ve been avoiding everyone.” Courfeyrac said, “And that you’re being a bit of an idiot.”

“Thanks Courf’” 

“You’re welcome.” Courfeyrac replied, “Now you’re out of excuses, get out of here.”

“You can’t order me out of my own house.” Enjolras said grumpily.

Combeferre stood up, and lifted Evard out of Enjolras’ arms, “No arguments E.”

Enjolras sighed. His heart was pounding, and his stomach felt ready to revolt, “Promise me that when this inevitably flops, and I get my heart broken that you’ll 1. Bring me ice cream, and 2. Never make me do anything like this again.”

“That’s the attitude!” Courfeyrac said cheerfully, Combeferre rolled his eyes, and carried Evard out of the room, muttering about silly insecure men who acted like children.

Enjolras watched them go with anxiety. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to put himself through this again? Was it really worth going through the same heartache with Grantaire? He wasn’t worth staying for, wasn’t worth being faithful to, Edward had made that abundantly clear. Did he really need to hear it again from Grantaire? 

A shirt hit him in the head, breaking his reverie.

“Wear that.” Courfeyrac said from the depths of the closet, “I’m looking for the tightest pair of jeans you own.”

Enjolras picked up the tee shirt. It was red and soft, the sort of thing that Edward would have hated.

Courfeyrac emerged from the closet, took one look at Enjolras, and sighed. He pushed the jeans into Enjolras’ arms, then put his hands on his shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay E.” Courfeyrac said, “Trust me.”

“Do I really have a choice?” Enjolras asked bitterly.

“You always have a choice.” Courfeyrac said, “We just want you to make the right one.”

Enjolras sighed, and dug his wallet out of his pocket. He tossed it on the bed, and kicked off his shoes, “Fine, I’ll go. But have that ice cream ready.”

“You got it.” 

***

Enjolras edged uneasily into the jazz club. The band was between sets, and people milled around, chatting excitedly. Enjolras nervously ordered a drink, then scanned the crowd. Grantaire was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe Grantaire had laryngitis? Maybe he’d quit music altogether? Or maybe Courf’ and ‘Ferre had the date wrong. He could have a few drinks, mill around for a while, tell his friends Grantaire hadn’t shown, then take his baby home and watch ‘How It’s Made’ until both he and Evard were fast asleep. 

All of his hopes were dashed when the audience burst into applause. Enjolras turned to the stage.

Grantaire took his place at the microphone, and damn he looked good. Something about the dim lighting of the club made his green eyes even more piercing than before. Just looking at him, Enjolras wanted to run.

But no. He gripped his drink and steeled himself. He would get this over with, one way or another. 

“We’re ‘Taire and the Bears’,” Grantaire said, his voice husky, “And, just as a remind, it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.”

The audience cheered, and the band burst into a lively tune Enjolras only vaguely recognized. All his anxiety melted away as he watched Grantaire crooning into the microphone, his eyes sparkling. The way his hips moved with the beat, the way he danced in place, it was mesmerizing, and, as if possessed, Enjolras moved closer to the stage, until he stood right in front of Grantaire. 

The melody faded out, and the saxophonist started to improvise. Grantaire looked down, and a dark flash passed through his eyes when he saw Enjolras. He looked up, and started singing nonsense words along with the saxophone. Enjolras’ stomach turned over, this had been a mistake, a huge mistake.

He turned around, and pushed his way back to the bar as the song faded out. He waved down the bartender to pay his prematurely opened tab. He was about halfway through extracting his credit card from his wallet, when he heard some familiar chords.

He turned around in time to see Grantaire step to the microphone.

“Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast, this is la vie en rose--”

“Hey, are going to pay or what?” The bartender asked.

“Right,” Enjolras said, turning around. He handed the bartender his card, and bit his lip. Perhaps it was just a coincidence? La Vie En Rose was a jazz standard for fucks sake, it wasn’t like it was their song, even if they had danced to it, even if Grantaire had sung it to him as they lay in bed, fingers entwined.

The bartender handed him back his credit card. No, he was being foolish. He wasn’t going to put himself through this again. He stuffed his wallet back in his pocket, and headed for the exit.

“Etienne Enjolras, don’t you dare walk out that door.” 

Grantaire’s voice boomed out of the speakers. Everyone in the club turned to look at him. Enjolras turned bright red, and edged away from the door.

“Much better.” Grantaire said. He stared right at Enjolras, and sang the last chorus, “And when you speak angels sing, everyday words seem to turn into love songs. Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be, la vie en rose.”

Enjolras stood, frozen to the spot as the song drifted to an end. So Grantaire didn’t want him to leave? Or maybe he just wanted to yell at him face to face. Enjolras couldn’t blame him, he preferred to do his yelling face to face too.

Grantaire whispered something to the guitarist, and the combo started off on something fast and trombone heavy. Grantaire jumped off the stage, and pushed his way to the back until he stood in front of Enjolras, breathing heavily, “You came.” he said.

“I-I...” Enjolras said, “I--”

“I’m so sorry.” Grantaire said, “I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I--”

“No, I’m sorry, I freaked out, I didn’t mean to--”

“And I totally understand that your son comes first--”

“I’m just shit at managing work, baby, and romance, and when Evard got sick--”

“I just hope that you’ll give me a second chance.” Grantaire finished.

Enjolras stared at him, “I should be the one asking you for a second chance.” he said.

Grantaire smiled, “Not from where I stand Apollo.”

“I’m just so sorry, I--”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, putting his hands on Enjolras’ hips, “If you apologize again I’m going to have to kiss you.”

Enjolras looked up at him and smiled, “What if I want you to kiss me?”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“Then kiss me you fool.”

Grantaire leaned down and kissed him, and in that moment, even with the scent of smoke and alcohol on them both, even with frantic jazz screeching in the background, even with his eyes tightly closed, Enjolras could see roses bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this guys, I hope you like it. Updates will be every Sunday. :)


End file.
